by Jacqueline Harrett
I've been watching you. Waiting. One day soon I'll have my revenge.
At first, I wanted you dead. I followed you and thought how easy it would be. One simple push and you'd be under the train, your brains splattered over the tracks.
Did you know? Were you aware? Could you feel the hate wash over you like spikes of glass? Sometimes, I thought you knew I was there, even though I've become an expert at disguise. The old woman bent over her shopping trolley; the smart executive with her long hair, high heels and briefcase and the street-sleeper staggering and shuffling alongside you.
I didn't recognise myself some days.
But I watched. I waited for you to make another mistake. The inquiry said it was an error; a series of circumstances; unfortunate.
I blame you.
Are you able to sleep at night? Do you think about changing your career? If only you'd listened to me. I told you something wasn't right with my baby. If you'd listened I'd be taking my little girl to nursery now instead of visiting a grave too small to hold my precious bundle.
Still I watched. Waited. It won't be long. You're near your time. A girl, I'm sure. When you hold her will you remember mine?
One day. One day soon you'll know. You'll look at that empty cradle and feel my pain.
I'll be cradling my baby girl; far away from here.